


date, interrupted

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Fae & Fairies, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Stiles has never been on a date before. That's why he's so excited when a guy from his statistics class asks him out.Of course, a supernatural emergency comes along to ruin it. Fortunately, Derek's there for him.





	date, interrupted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlesdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/gifts).



> For the prompt: 7. "I forgot how much I hate you."
> 
> Please excuse any formatting issues. My laptop broke yesterday and for whatever reason I couldn't copy and paste into rich text.

"I forgot how much I hate you," Stiles grumbled sullenly as he slid into the passenger seat of the Camaro.

  
He was careful not to jostle his skinned knee as he shifted around to get more comfortable. With a beleaguered grunt, he crossed his scratched up arms over his chest.

  
He was beyond done. Mostly because he was covered in fairy guts and tiny bits of bone, his hair matted with thick, dark blood that fucking _sparkled_. Because apparently fairy blood fucking _sparkled_.

  
His arms stung where the fairies had mercilessly slashed him up, their tiny claws surprisingly sharp and unbearably painful when they pierced his flesh. His left knee was still bleeding from where he had scraped it on a rock after Isaac had accidentally knocked him over.

  
His ears still ached from the shrill banshee-like screams the fairies had let out as they had attacked. It was bad enough to almost make him wince in sympathy for the werewolves whose ears were probably still ringing.

  
But sympathy would have to wait since it was the werewolves' fault that he was grimy and dirty and covered in sparkling blood, in desperate need of a long, hot shower at midnight on a school night.

Unfortunately, his shower had to wait, too, since Derek had taken his sweet time burying the sharp toothed little bastards, gathering up their remains and dumping them into a deep hole by the treeline.

  
The rest of the pack had already taken off in that white suburban mom's excuse of a Toyota that Derek had loaned Boyd for the night. All of the betas had crammed in so tight it would have made a sardine feel claustrophobic.

  
Regardless of the tight confines, Stiles had valiantly attempted to get a seat in the Toyota. But Isaac, the little fucking cheat, had beat him in rock, paper, scissors, leaving Stiles stuck behind, having to catch a ride home with Derek.

  
Speaking of the perpetually grumpy alpha, he was fastening his seatbelt in the driver's seat. He rolled his eyes at Stiles' petulant comment, very clearly unamused.

  
But Stiles didn't really care how annoyed Derek was with him considering the fact that he was beyond pissed off at the Derek. So much so that he refused to bite his tongue any longer than he already had.

  
"I can't believe you called me for that," Stiles hissed as Derek started the Camaro's engine that roared to life with a deep purr. He flicked on the headlights that cut through the murky darkness of the preserve, shining a bright beam through the thicket of oak trees the fairies had erupted out of.

  
The same frolic of fairies that had been almost comically easy to dispose of. A few claw swipes here and a couple swats of their hands there and the fairies had been completely finished, the entire horde decimated.

  
Beyond frustrated, Stiles said as much, viciously growling out, "Fairies. Fucking fairies. Not even a full court of fairies. It took about half an hour to get rid of the little bastards! You should've just handled it yourself instead of completely ruining my night!"

  
Derek rolled his eyes again as he put the Camaro into gear. As he did a tight, efficient K-turn before heading out towards the road, he voiced his disagreement, casually dismissing, "It was just a date, Stiles. It's not the end of the world."

  
Stiles let out a frustrated groan as he unfolded his arms, throwing his hands up in pure exasperation. Because of course Derek didn't understand. Why in the hell would he?

  
Derek was god's gift to the earth and everyone knew it. He was sweet and smart and strong and good looking. Like, unearthly good looking. Unfairly good looking.

  
With all his dark stubble and thick hair, his incredible physique and chiseled features, he was a veritable Adonis. A runaway runway model strutting around Beacon Hills in all his glory.

  
It was no wonder that Derek had people drooling over him no matter where he went, whether it was the grocery store or the post office or the freaking gas station for Christ's sake. Young women and elderly women alike never failed to ogle the handsome alpha.

  
Stiles had even seen a nun check out Derek's ass once. A nun. Because Derek was so unbelievably gorgeous that it made people break their sacred vows to resist the temptations of the flesh.

  
In short, Derek was basically six feet of beautiful badass-ery which was he had no idea why the date had been such a big deal for Stiles. Because unlike Derek who had a dangerously sharp jawline and high cheekbones and a devastatingly gorgeous smile, Stiles was one hundred and forty seven pounds of pasty skin and flailing limbs.

  
Where Derek was muscular and strong, Stiles was scrawny and wiry, barely able to make it through the high school's presidential fitness test. Where Derek was graceful and charming, Stiles tripped over his own feet and suffered from a perpetual bout of verbal diarrhea.

  
Where Derek was seamlessly able to draw anyone's eye, Stiles was lucky if people even noticed him walk into a room. Hell, he had actually been marked absent a few times because he was so painfully unremarkable.

  
Being ignored and overlooked was essentially a very succinct summary of his entire high school experience. Which was why he had been so excited when Adam had asked him out.

  
Adam was the captain of the school's soccer team, a highly decorated striker with a record amount of goals under his belt. He was one of the popular kids who drove a fancy foreign car and threw parties at his palatial home every weekend.

  
With his pale blonde hair and deep green eyes, he was model gorgeous. He had tons of people, both men and women, fawning over him left and right. Which was why Stiles could still hardly believe that Adam had asked him out.

  
He had been doodling in the margins of his statistics notebook in class, having already skipped several chapters ahead in the textbook, when someone had tossed a note onto his desk. Careful not to let Ms. Fleming see him reading it, Stiles had discreetly unfolded the little square of notebook paper to find a hastily scrawled message.

  
It was from Adam, a quick note asking Stiles out that Sunday. A phone number had been included.

  
After class, Stiles had punched the number into his cell phone and sent a text to ask where they were going. According to the response, they would be going to some fancy cafe that Stiles hadn't even known was in Beacon Hills.

  
Admittedly, Stiles had been extremely skeptical at first. He had been convinced that it was some sort of elaborate prank, a cruel joke thought up by some asshole. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened.

  
So, on Sunday evening, he had sat on his front porch in his nicest pair of jeans and a brand new button up, half expecting Adam to not show up at all. But at eight forty three, Adam had pulled up in his ritzy dark blue Lexus, looking sinfully good in a tight t-shirt and dark skinny jeans.

  
After letting his dad know that he was leaving, he had climbed into the passenger seat and they had sped off to Café Rouge.

  
Things had been going pretty great. They had talked about upcoming tests and college applications while they sipped overly expensive lattes on the outdoor patio.

  
Stiles managed not to embarrass himself by rambling or bringing up anything that might send Adam running for the hills. He even managed to forget about the supernatural craziness that was his life for a little bit.

  
For his part, Adam had talked about himself enough to be slightly annoying. But he made up for it by leaning in close like he was going to kiss him.

  
Predictably, it was right then that Stiles' cell phone had rung with Derek's ringtone. All of sudden, the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe had been rudely interrupted by the chorus of Hungry Like the Wolf playing obnoxiously loud.

  
With a heavy sigh, Stiles had apologized to Adam and begrudgingly answered his phone. Derek rarely called unless it was an emergency.

  
Derek had growled out that the pack needed some help with a group of fairies that were encroaching on Hale territory. He had been even more impatient than usual, demanding to know where Stiles was.

  
With another deep sigh, Stiles had given Derek the name of the cafe. After hanging up, he had apologized to Adam again, claiming that he had to help his friend out with something, insisting that it was an emergency.

  
Derek pulled up in the Camaro a few minutes later to drive Stiles to the preserve. Once there, they had spent two hours trekking through the thick underbrush of the forest in search of the fairies' hideout.

  
They finally found them in a grove of oak trees, hiding in the hollowed trunk of one of the older trees. The second the pack was within a three foot radius of their tree, the little bastards had attacked.

  
As per usual, Stiles had been the prime target. Half an hour later he was all clawed to hell, with skinned knees, a split lip, and a ruined shirt.

  
All in all, the night that had started out rather hopeful had been dragged through the mud. It wasn't as though he was all that into Adam but since the guy he had been pining over for years had never shown any interest in him, he figured it was the best he was going to get.

  
And Derek just had to ruin it.

  
"Fuck you," Stiles spat as Derek made a left turn, heading back towards town. "It wasn't just a date, asshole."

  
"I'm sorry, was it your anniversary?" Derek sniped back as he leaned over to turn on Stiles' heat warmer. But if he thought that would be enough to placate Stiles, he was dead wrong.

  
"No, jackass," Stiles retorted, turning his head to stare out the window at the passing scenery. Growling under his breath, he continued, "It was our first date. My first date."

  
The Camaro lurched to a sudden stop when Derek belatedly stomped on the brakes, coming close to blowing past a stop sign. He whipped his head to the side to gawk at Stiles, incredulously demanding, "What?"

  
Stiles bristled, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to meet Derek's gaze with a glare. Curling his lip, he defensively snapped, "What do you mean 'what'?"

  
"You've never been on a date before?" Derek elaborated, his brows knitting together. The disbelief in his tone made Stiles even more defensive.

  
"Yeah, so what?" Stiles snarled, narrowing his eyes at the alpha. Gritting his teeth, he informed Derek, "In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have people beating a path to my door."

  
"But you've never been on a date before?" Derek reiterated, his voice thick with confusion. It grated on Stiles' nerves like nothing else. He was about to snap at Derek when the alpha glanced down and mumbled, "That doesn't make any sense."

  
"What the hell are you talking about, dude?" Stiles demanded. "It makes perfect sense. I'm just some skinny little nerd who can't shut up to save his life. Not exactly prime dating material."

  
"Don't talk about yourself like that!" Derek thundered, tightening his grip on the steering wheel until the vinyl cried out in protest. His jaw was tight as he gravely announced, "You're brave, loyal, incredibly smart, good looking... Anyone would be lucky to go out with you."

  
"But then..." Stiles trailed off uncertainly, dropping his arms. He lowered his eyes to his lap as he softly mumbled, "Why haven't you ever asked me out?"

  
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, awkwardness thick in the air between them. Surprisingly, Derek was the one who broke it.

  
"Next Friday," he said quietly. "I'll take you to the diner on Fifth. You can get as many curly fries as you want and you can talk my ear off about whatever you want. I... I can pick you up at seven?"

  
"Yeah..." Stiles breathed, sure that he was dreaming. If he was, he never wanted to wake up.

  
Without another word, Derek stepped on the gas. They drove further into town, leaving the preserve behind for now.

  
Smiling to himself, Stiles reached over to tug one of Derek's hands off of the steering wheel, intertwining their fingers. As he ran his thumb over Derek's knuckles he thought about how he would explain things to Adam.

  
Because he loved Derek more than anything. And that was something he would never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr: hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com


End file.
